Some Fine Day (25 page)

“That would be better. And please, call me Rafiq.”

We speak for another ten minutes or so. I hope Rafiq is solid. Otherwise Will and I are as good as dead.

“Where will you go after?” he asks.

“I have no idea.” And I don’t. I’ve only been thinking hours into the future, not days.

“Oh dear. In that case, I can only say that the weather in Nu London is lovely this time of year. You might want to look me up sometime.”

“Doesn’t it rain nonstop?” I ask, but the line has already gone dead.

A child born into the lower classes has three choices: the fields, the factories, or the mines. Her wealthier – and more fortunate – peers have but two: join the military, or train in the sciences.

The building known as the Helix sits on the outskirts of the city, at the far edge of Raven Rock’s Industrial quad. White and windowless, it houses four research divisions: Geophysics, Climatology, Agrosciences and Biosciences. It is the premier scientific hub of our prefecture, and much of what goes on there is classified.

As the name implies, it’s shaped like a spiral, with the main entrance admitting employees and visitors into a lobby with immediate access to the geophysics labs. Moving walkways continue on to the weather labs where they crunch data on the storms, followed by agrosciences and finally, nestled in the very center, biosciences. The reasoning is that if something nasty gets loose, it should be kept as far from the outer perimeter as possible.

Officially, biosciences focuses on genetics and animal breeding, namely why most domestic livestock seems unable to reproduce in an underground environment. But it’s common knowledge within the Helix that other, military-funded research goes on as well. According to the latest rumors, they’ve begun weaponizing a hemorrhagic swine flu virus. Purely for defensive purposes, of course. In case the other side gets the same idea.

Rafiq told me some of this. Some I knew already. What I didn’t know was how tight the security arrangements are. In that regard, he was very enlightening. Long story short, if you’re not cleared, you’re not getting in. Not without a minimum five-person team and weeks of advance planning.

Fortunately, thanks to him, I know someone who works there.

“Dinner!” my mom calls from the kitchen.

We only eat in the solarium on special occasions, or when we have company. It’s pretty there, with all the flowers, but I like the kitchen better anyway. I sit down at the table and start eating my soup, trying to memorize every detail of this room. Of my mother’s face. Because after tonight, I may not see either of them again.

We eat in silence for a while – not good silence but brittle silence – until the dismal clinking of spoons and hushed slurping gets to her.

“Look, honey, I can only imagine what you’re going through. But I’ve made up my mind. I’m calling my boss. And a friend at the Network. Once the media gets wind of what’s happening, they’ll have to pull the plug.”

I swallow and bite the inside of my lip to keep from screaming. “They’ll pull the plug all right. By making the subjects disappear as if they never existed. Please, Mom. I just need to think a little. There’s got to be a better way. Back channels, to let them know it’s leaked. Something. Just promise you won’t do anything until morning.”

She hesitates.

“And I’ll promise not to do anything stupid.”

Her eyes search mine, then she nods reluctantly. Gets up to serve the noodles. I feel a little bad lying to her, but strictly speaking, what I have planned isn’t stupid. Just insane.

After we clean up, she retreats to her study for another conference call with our attorney. I slip upstairs and break into my father’s gun stash again. The revolver won’t cut it. I need something special. A very rare, very illegal weapon that’s one of his most prized possessions. It’s heavier than I expected, but also smaller, which is good. After a long search, I finally find the ammo; it’s unlabeled and hidden behind a stack of other boxes. These include a collection of antique gold coins, which could come in handy to pay for things off the grid.

I carefully lock up after myself, return the key to the shoe, and go to my room. Turn off the lamp and peek through the curtains. The car’s still there, interior dome light illuminating two figures. They must be pretty bored by now. Surveillance is tedious work. It’s almost impossible to maintain a heightened sense of alertness for hours on end. The middle of the shift is the worst. Your butt goes numb and the caffeine rush is a distant memory. I figure these guys are about four hours in now. Perfect.

I sit by the window, watching the car and thinking, as the nearest houses go dark one by one. Getting him out is just half of it. Getting away, getting out of Raven Rock, will be even harder. I have no idea what kind of shape he’s in. Physically or mentally. Not very good, I expect.

My mind is blank. I can’t get around the travel problem. We all carry Pii cards, short for Prefectural Identification Interface. They have a photo and a microchip that links to everything – bank accounts, medical records, school and employment. Criminal history. The first thing that happens if you’re wanted by the authorities is they flag your Pii.

They can’t be hacked, not by me at any rate, and you can’t do anything without one. Such as get on a bullet train, which is the only route in or out of the prefecture. And they’ll be looking for us, looking hard. If only I had more time. . . The clock chimes 9 and my mom opens the door, light spilling in from the hallway. She goes to turn on the lamp.

“Don’t,” I say.

She perches next to me, light as a bird. Her hand moves to touch mine, pulls back at the last second. It occurs to me that I must look a little unhinged sitting here in the dark.

“The lawyers are coming at 8am. We’ll be ready for them. No one’s taking you anywhere, Jan.” She says this so fiercely it breaks my heart a little.

“No, they won’t,” I say.

That much is true.

“I love you.” She rests her forehead against my ear for a moment. She smells faintly of soap and strongly of herself. I lean into her. I hope she can forgive me. I hope they don’t make her pay for my actions.

“Me too.”

She smiles. I can tell she’s scared witless and trying not show it. So am I.

When the door closes, I sit still for a moment, running through everything again in my head. I should be tired, I’ve barely slept in a couple of days now, but instead I feel razor sharp and humming with potential energy. Ready to hurt someone.

I look out at the car again, and the urge to creep over there and indulge in some retribution is so strong I almost succumb. But I know they’ll be checking in regularly by radio. If they go quiet, more will come. A lot more.

So I go to my closet and rummage around for the most conservative outfit I can find. Navy knee-length skirt, grey turtleneck, short navy pea coat. Sensible shoes. Hair in a tight bun. No makeup. The coat has a large inside pocket. I load the weapon, slip it in. Check myself in the mirror. Not bad. No obvious bulge. If they try to pat me down, it’ll get ugly, but I hope it doesn’t come that.

Last thing: my magic rocks. They look like dark grey pebbles. I used to have a couple dozen, but I lost most of them one by one. They were a present from my dad. When I was little, their powers never failed to blow my mind. Then I figured out how they worked and lost interest. I have five left, in a little felt bag. It goes in my left-hand pocket, along with the coins.

I pass my mother’s bedroom door on the way downstairs. The light’s on and I hear the low murmur of the TV. It’s past 10. I really need to get moving.  I’ll be making a stop before the Helix, and I’m not even sure where it is.

The computer in her study is hibernating. I wake it up, and go to the staff directory. Whisper the name Rafiq gave me. Luckily, the address isn’t all that far. I log out and check the city bus routes, find one that stops within walking distance. Lakeshore District, very affluent. I guess selling your soul to the military brings in a nice paycheck.

I go into the living room and scan the small backyard through the patio doors. My mother keeps a vegetable garden, with special lights to make the plants grow. They’re off now, but I can see well enough. It’s never completely dark underground. Whoever’s in charge of these things just hits a dimmer switch. Everything is quiet. They don’t expect me to run. I’m not even supposed to know they’re coming for me in the morning.

I silently thank Rafiq. I’m not sure why he’s helping us, if it’s loyalty to my mother or retribution against his former employer or what. I’m still not at all happy about that. Unknowns have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass, this I learned at the Academy. But I have no choice. The only thing that matters at this point is whether he told me the truth. And I’ll find that out soon enough.

I slip through the doors and climb the low stone wall at the back of the yard. Now I’m on our neighbor’s property, an old lady who rescues animals that the genetics labs have no use for. Mostly weird-looking cats, which thrive underground for reasons no one can adequately explain. Her house is dark, and I make it to the street beyond without any witnesses other than a pair of luminous green eyes glowing in a ground floor window. There’s a bus stop four blocks away. I walk quickly, but not too quickly, head down. Traffic is light at this hour. Moving away from the watchers, I feel as though a tether has snapped, my last connection with the life I’ve known for sixteen years. It’s scary and exhilarating at the same time, like the moment you push off the lip of a cavern wall and hang there for a split second, suspended in air, and suddenly the ground is rushing upwards and rope is slithering in a hiss through the mechanical descender. And then: a light touch, and the free fall is arrested. Controlled descent. That’s the goal.

But this is not a controlled descent, I think.

In the space of forty-eight hours, I’ve managed to completely derail the future that everyone, including myself, had taken as a given. I know I should be more concerned, but all I can think about is Will and the heart-stopping possibility that he’s not dead.

I’ve always had a purpose even if it was just to serve as someone else’s weapon. He’s my purpose now. And I’m my own weapon.

I see the lights of an oncoming bus and jog the last block. The doors swish open and I look the driver in the eye, smile, swipe my Pii through the console. Right now, I’m still just a wayward cadet, an irritant to be disposed of, but no major threat. If I was, they would have been watching the back of the house too. So my name won’t be red-flagged as a fugitive for a few hours yet. At which point, my Pii will become useless anyway and it really doesn’t matter what tracks I leave.

The bus is about half full, mainly workers coming off the factory shifts. I find an empty seat and watch the city roll by. The middle-class neighborhood gives way to cheap cinderblock housing, followed by the massive hydroponic farms where nearly everything is automated. By the time we get to Lakeshore,  I’m the last passenger. There’s no lake, of course, but it sounds good. I figure the only reason they even have a stop out here is for the gardeners and maids who work in the mansions.

I walk a few blocks, turn right, walk two more, start checking the numbers. The one I want is smaller than its neighbors but still impressive. Ultra-modern, with no right angles and walls of computer-controlled windows that look opaque from the outside but let in plenty of light. I know she’s unmarried, no kids. I’m not so sure about lovers, which could present a problem. But Rafiq described her as a workaholic, so I’m betting she’ll be alone.

There’s no point in stealth; I’m sure she’s got a state-of-the-art alarm system. So I walk up to the front door and press the intercom. A long minute passes. Lights come on upstairs, then downstairs. The intercom crackles to life.

“Who is it?” Wary, but also curious.

“Jansin Nordqvist.” I hold my breath and lean in toward the viewscreen. If she knows, or even suspects, it’s over. “My mom sent me,” I say into the silence. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, but she said you could help. It’s a bit of an emergency.”

An eternity passes, although it’s probably only a few seconds. Then there’s an almost inaudible click. The door swings open.

She’s wearing a black silk robe and her eyes are puffy with sleep. If she’d been alert and thinking straight, she might not have let me in. That would have been the wiser choice.

“Hey, Rebekah,” I say, leveling my gun at her forehead and kicking the door shut behind me. “How’s work these days?”

She doesn’t flinch or try to run. Just looks at me with a stony expression. Nothing like the bubbly scientist I dined with under the stars a few months ago.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back at school?” she says.

“I guess you don’t watch the news. They kicked me out. Are you alone?”

She doesn’t answer. Her ash blonde hair is neat, and her patrician face bears no trace of makeup. I listen to the house, listen for any sound that’s out of place. It’s perfectly quiet. Empty feeling.

“Get dressed. Whatever you usually wear to the lab. Today is bring your favorite grad student to work day.”